


I am Titanic

by IntelligentDreams



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Complicated Relationships, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, F/M, Families of Choice, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Original Character(s), Prophetic Dreams, RMS Titanic, Sibling Rivalry, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Titanic References, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:57:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntelligentDreams/pseuds/IntelligentDreams
Summary: The books. The movies. The musical. The exhibits. The documentaries.They all tell the same story, of the tragic ocean liner who sank that fateful night of April 15th and her motley melting pot of passengers, and yet, none of them mention /his/ name.Hercules Caspian Andrews, the semi-immortal physical manifestation of the RMS Titanic itself. Son of master shipbuilder Thomas Andrews, godson of Captain Edward J Smith and White Star Line chairman Bruce Ismay. Born out of sheer passion for the creation of the “Ship of Dreams”, about to embark on a maiden voyage from which he will never recover.Previously hidden in the sprawling depths of history, historians can finally learn the truth of what happened on that horrifying evening, in a firsthand account unlike any ever seen before. Journey aboard the unsinkable ship once again, this time through the eyes of the entity who knew her best.It will be an adventure to remember, woven within the truth of history and tragedy of an unfinished voyage.





	1. to personify a dream

**Author's Note:**

> -Note: This story, though not a direct fanfiction, will reference elements from James Cameron’s 1997 film “Titanic”, as well as Maury Yeston’s musical under the same name. Both original characters and historical figures will feature prominently in the events within this novel’s pages, but in no way is this novel intended to disrespect the memories of the 1,500 souls who lost their lives aboard Titanic.-

**Southampton, April 1912**

 

The morning of April Tenth dawned bright and early, the sun peeking hesitantly through the curtains as the sky turned a brilliant haze of oranges and pinks. It was to be a beautiful day in Southampton, the weathermen predicted, perhaps the most beautiful to be had in ages. 

 

The perfect weather for a town so rife with excitement, its residents bursting at the seams with energy as they anticipated one of the most entertaining days they had in a long time. Even at the ungodly hour of six o'clock in the morning, many of the townspeople had already risen from their beds, and were now either roaming the streets in search of their friends or some means of sustenance to tide them over until lunch.

 

Today was the day history was to be made, after all, and Hercules Caspian Andrews was entirely oblivious to it.

 

Well, not  _ entirely  _ oblivious.

 

As the physical manifestation of the RMS Titanic, an entity born out of Thomas Andrews’ sheer passion for the newest project assigned to him by the White Star Line, he knew  _ full well _ what all the fuss was about. 

 

But for the moment, the twenty-one year old adult sound asleep in the nice, warm bed didn’t care.

 

He was locked in the world of his own dreams, in the dreams of his soon-to-be passengers, those whose safety he would soon be responsible for. One of Hercules’ duties as a physical manifestation of an object was to ensure the comfort of those who boarded his decks, to protect them as he would his own child. That was why he had been granted partial immortality upon his birth, after all, so he could pursue that duty till the end of time.

 

Two loud raps suddenly sounded on the door, causing Hercules to stir slightly in his sleep. Although the noise had certainly been intended to fully wake him, it hadn’t succeeded, as the young man was indeed a rather heavy sleeper.

 

Why, Thomas sometimes joked that it was as if Herc (as many crewmen aboard his ship fondly nicknamed him) could sleep through  _ anything _ , even the chaos of his own ship striking an iceberg and sinking!

 

Hercules had scoffed at the idea of such a thing happening.

 

He was unsinkable, after all.

 

Nothing could stop him. Not that bothersome Ismay fellow, not an iceberg, not even God himself.

 

“HERCULES CASPIAN ANDREWS!” The irate bellowing of one Thomas Andrews entered Herc’s subconscious, and the entity opened one eye partially, letting out a yawn. “Get out of bed now, lad, unless you want to be late for your meeting with Captain Smith!”

 

Herc’s eyes snapped open, and an exclamation of shock left him as he bolted upright, practically flying out of his bed and running straight to his closet.

 

That’s right— how could he have forgotten?!

 

Today was Wednesday, April Tenth.

 

The day he was to finally, after all those long months of waiting, set sail on his maiden voyage.

 

Elation unlike any Hercules had ever felt before flooded his veins, and the physical manifestation found a gleeful laugh escaping him as he searched for his uniform. In order to hide his status as the  _ Titanic’s _ personification to the average passenger, his godfather -one Captain Edward Smith- had agreed to give him an honorary position as an officer, something which delighted him to no end.

 

Herc’s other godfather, Bruce Ismay, had protested the appointment, but Smith had stood his ground, arguing that it would be the best way to keep the boy safe. The arrangement worked out quite wonderfully, for Hercules was already close friends with many of the Officers, and it had the added bonus of letting him spend more time with the Captain.

 

A win-win for everyone, then.

 

Upon finding his uniform (which had been laying atop his suitcase), Hercules quickly put it on, and pulled out his pocket watch to see how he was doing on time.

 

Five minutes until he had to leave. 

 

Okay. He could make that work.

 

“Now, where the  _ Hell  _ did I leave that comb of mine last night?” The young being growled quietly, his eyes scouring the room for any sign of the missing item. It was of utmost importance that he found it, for if it was not in his possession, then there was no way for him to tame his unruly mop of hair!

 

The search proved futile, like that of a rescuer returning to the site of a disaster where all perished in the ocean’s icy depths, and after a few moments Hercules decided to give up. Letting out a sigh of frustration, he ran his fingers through his chocolate curls in an effort to smooth them, pausing for a moment before grabbing his suitcase.

 

A moment later, Hercules was out the door, sprinting down the hallway of the quaint little home he shared with his master shipbuilder.

 

“Ah, Herc! There you are!” The elder Andrews beamed, his soft brown eyes dancing with excitement as he caught sight of the personification he had helped bring to life. Thomas was practically trembling with excitement, a byproduct of the childlike joy currently rolling off of Hercules in waves. “I was starting to think you’d never come!”

 

“And leave you to complete my maiden voyage without me, father? My, what a scandalous suggestion!” Hercules exclaimed dramatically, the playful gleam in his eye eliciting a laugh from Thomas.

 

“You’d probably burn the house down in some sort of accident minutes after I left, so I’m sure it’s for the best that you’re not left alone.” Thomas joked, nudging the younger man playfully. “A man left up to his own devices is a dangerous thing, after all. Besides, the moment I turn my back on you Mr. Ismay might find another toad under his pillow!”

 

“HEY!” protested Hercules, resisting the urge to burst into laughter at his father’s words. “I’m not  _ that  _ much of a mischief maker. I....” he faltered under Thomas’ stern gaze, sensing the warning to not even attempt challenge his words. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’re right. I  _ am  _ a bit of a prankster. You gotta admit, though, Mr. Ismay totally deserved that!”

 

Thomas rolled his eyes fondly, placing a careful hand on the boy’s shoulder and guiding him towards the door. The two of them left the house, walking down the bustling street and talking quietly amongst themselves.

 

“White Star Line  _ still  _ refused to let me put more lifeboats on the promenade deck. I went to talk to Ismay about it last night and he turned me down before I could even open my mouth to speak!” The master shipbuilder grumbled to himself as he walked, keeping an eye out for any passerbys in his path.

 

Hercules frowned, furrowing his eyebrows in concern as he glanced at Thomas. As the ship’s personification, he was well aware that  _ Titanic  _ only had twenty of the sixty eight possible lifeboats, only enough to carry 1,178 people on board to safety were disaster to strike. 

 

It was quite a sobering thought, really.

 

“That’s not good.” He muttered, a twinge of sympathy for Thomas piercing his heart. He knew the elder Andrews had been advocating for more safety procedures with regards to  _ Titanic’s  _ maiden voyage, and yet, he had been blocked at every turn.

 

Hercules schooled his features into those of confidence, offering Thomas a small smile as he spoke quietly, “I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” he added, in an effort to assuage his own mounting fears as well as those of his creator’s. “Everything should go smoothly. You  _ do  _ realize there’s a reason they’re calling me Unsinkable, right?”

 

“I suppose,” Thomas sighed, running an anxious hand through his auburn hair. “Remember, lad. I’m your father, and it’s practically written in a parent’s job description to worry about their child. Besides, something about this voyage is making me quite uneasy; I just can’t put my finger on it...” he trailed off, a hint of uncertainty flickering across his face.

 

“Oh, lighten up, Thomas!” Hercules grinned, nudging the man playfully. “Cheer up! It’s my maiden voyage-- we might as well make the best of it, lifeboats or not.”

 

“Wise words indeed, young Hercules.  I must confess, however, that I do share your father’s apprehensions regarding this journey, much as I wish to enjoy it.”

 

The personification whirled around as he heard a new voice enter the conversation, one he recognized on the spot due to its familiarity. He was delighted to see that his assumption was correct--  _ Titanic’s  _ Chief Officer, Henry Wilde, was ambling towards the father and son, already dressed in full uniform. 

 

A handsome man of thirty-nine years, Wilde had recently been made Chief after Captain Smith had decided to shuffle around the order of the officers, and was one of Herc’s closest friends. Both he, First Officer William Murdoch, and Second Officer Lightoller were almost like brothers to Hercules, as they had been the first ones other than his godparents to be wholly accepting of his identity and background. Since then, the four of them had become 

 

“Morning, Henry!” Hercules beamed upon seeing his friend, bounding up to him with a childlike excitement in his eyes. Wilde chuckled at the energy Andrews’ son possessed, and idly, a small part of him wondered how on Earth Thomas managed the man. “Fancy seeing you here. I was just on my way to meet with EJ on the ship...he wants me with him when boarding begins at 9:30.”

 

“Ah, yes. He did mention that to me.” Wilde acknowledged, a slight smile on his face. “Ismay wasn’t particularly happy about that, but the Captain was over the moon about that idea.”

 

“It would seem Captain Smith’s become quite attached to you, Herc.” He added, a gleam of amusement creeping into his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he offered the chance for you to take on his family name sometime during your maiden voyage!”

 

Thomas scowled at the idea, pulling Hercules close to him protectively. Even though Edward Smith was the immortal being’s godfather and as such had legal rights to it, Thomas  _ hated  _ the idea of having to share guardianship of his son. After all, it had been  _ his  _ passion, not Smith’s, for the building of the  _ RMS Titanic _ that had led to Herc’s manifestation!

 

“In his dreams.” The master shipbuilder harrumphed, crossing his arms and pouting slightly. Hercules snickered at his father’s response, exchanging a gleeful look with Henry.

 

“I don’t know, father, Hercules Caspian Andrews-Smith does have a pretty nice ring to it. Perhaps you ought to consider the idea.” The personification laughed, eyes twinkling merrily. He tucked a strand of his curly hair behind his ear, realizing that they had already arrived at the ship.

 

Thomas merely stuck his tongue out in response.

 

“There you are, Herc! About damn time I found you!!”

 

Charles Lightoller was sprinting towards the group, a clearly relieved expression written on his face. Hercules’ eyes lit up as he recognized his other best friend, a wide grin creeping onto his face. 

 

“LIGHTS!” 

 

The Second Officer of the  _ RMS Titanic  _ found himself nearly tackled to the ground by the ship’s hyperactive  personification, but managed to regain his footing before he fell down.

 

“Easy there, Herc.” Lightoller laughed, a wide grin on his face. “I take it someone’s excited for their maiden voyage, then?”

 

“Hell yes!” Hercules nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he yearned to break into a run.

 

“Well then, we must get you on your ship, lad! Come now, we haven’t any time to spare!” cried Lightoller, grabbing the younger Andrews’ arm before dragging him towards the boarding area. Thomas and Murdoch exchanged a glance, the shaking their heads in bemusement before deciding to follow the pair.

 

When Hercules stepped on the gangway for the first time, he was not prepared for the thoughts and emotions that flooded his head.

 

_ Where the hell is that boy? I must speak with him now....got to see him before we set sail.  _

 

_ Maybe we can break records with this voyage. I ought to talk to Smith about increasing speed as soon as I can... _

 

_ My god! Is this a ship or a mountain? _

 

He staggered back, his eyes wide as the thoughts of those on board -which at this point merely consisted of the crew and officers- assaulted his head, unprepared for the sudden wave of emotions. 

 

Thomas caught Hercules as he fell back, and the master shipbuilder was shocked to feel his son shaking like a leaf. The poor lad’s skin was clammy, beads of sweat glistening on his pale face. 

 

What on earth had happened to him?

 

Hercules was breathing hard, taking deep gulps of air in order to calm himself from the overwhelming incident. The thoughts of his passengers had faded to a dull roar, but he could still hear them and feel their emotions.

 

“What’s wrong, my boy?” Thomas queried cautiously, paternal concern flickering across his face as he gazed at his son. 

 

Hercules didn’t even bother to meet his father’s gaze, for he was still shaking, able to feel an incessant pounding in his head. His hands were trembling, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty as this new sensation raged through his body.

 

“Herc?” Murdoch prodded softly, nudging the younger man on the shoulder. “Lad, what’s up?”

 

“I...it’s nothing.” Hercules lied, not wanting them to know that he now somehow had access to all their thoughts and emotions. “Just feeling a bit under the weather, that’s all. Nothing you need to be worried about.”

 

Thomas eyed his son skeptically, and Hercules took the time to examine his father’s emotions in the silence that emerged between them. Pride was rolling off of the elder Andrews in waves -pride at his creation, that he had somehow produced enough passion for a project to father a physical manifestation-, and was accompanied by a deep parental love for Hercules, as well as a growing concern for the boy’s state of being.

 

He then turned his attention to Murdoch, and noted a sincere concern gripping the officer’s heart, concern that his friend wasn’t as alright as he pretended to be. 

 

Wilde was feeling a similar emotion, and Hercules squirmed at the worry in his gaze, moving to stand behind his father.

 

“Well  then.” Lightoller coughed, interrupting the awkward silence that had fallen over the quartet. “If it’s nothing, perhaps I ought to take you to see Captain Smith. We haven’t got all day, you know-- third class boarding starts at 9:30!”

 

“Alright. Lead the way, Lights.” Hercules shrugged, wiping his face clear of any sign of the whirlwind of emotions he had just experienced.

 

With that, he stepped onto the gangway once more, and thus began the adventure of a lifetime.


	2. of captains and godfathers

Hercules had been aboard the Ship of Dreams before, but it never failed to fill him with awe every time he stepped inside.

 

“You really did a marvelous job with this ship, father.” He murmured, gazing up at the sparkling chandelier above him. The two of them were climbing the Grand Staircase, with Murdoch, Wilde and Lightoller at their sides. “I doubt I’ve ever seen anything half as magnificent as _Titanic_!”

 

A blush of embarrassment crept onto Thomas’ face as he ducked his head, his humble nature forcing him to abhor any sort of praise.

 

“I...” Thomas trailed off, unsure of how to respond to such a comment. “Thank  you, my boy.” He chuckled weakly after a moment of awkward silence, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

 

“Herc’s right, Mr. Andrews. This ship is truly magnificent, that I will admit despite my misgivings regarding her maiden voyage.” Wilde commented, his words causing Murdoch and Lightoller to look at him as if he had two heads.

 

“Misgivings? You have misgivings about this voyage, sir?” Murdoch asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at his superior officer.

 

“Yes.” The Chief Officer admitted, shifting his feet as he looked down at the ground. “But it’s nothing.” He shook his head, wiping any hint of uncertainty from his face. “I’m sure things will go quite smoothly, especially with EJ being the one in charge. He’s got over forty years of experience at sea, I believe.”

 

“That’s right.” Hercules nodded, beaming at the thought of his godfather. He was able to feel a genuine fondness for the coming from Wilde, who saw the Captain almost as a father figure of sorts. Quite fitting, really, since he thought of Henry as the brother he never had. “My godfather is quite the experienced seaman; under his leadership, everything should go okay. I’m not too worried.”

 

Soon enough, the quintet had reached the deck, quickly making their way to the bridge. Hercules was floored by the view of Southampton presented by Titanic’s deck, and paused for a moment in order to take it all in. The sea was glittering in the morning sun, and already, the personification could see eager passengers milling about near the gangway below.

 

Soon, all of them would be on board the Ship of Dreams, their fears, affections, and aspirations all available for him to access on a whim. Hercules shuddered in revulsion at the idea— his sense of personal honor dictated that he would try to use his newfound ability as little as possible, that he would respect the privacy of his passengers and crew. However, there were some cases where an emotion a passenger felt was so strong that it slithered in through Hercules’ defenses, such as Thomas’ fatherly affection for his son.

 

As they walked, several of the crewmen called out to the group, and the anticipation in the air was palpable.

 

“Morning Mr. Lightoller!”

 

“Morning Mr. Moody.” Lightoller tipped his hat in greeting to _Titanic’s_ sixth officer, unable to contain the grin that escaped onto his face.

 

“Mr. Pittman! Mr. Pittman, over here!”

 

“Hello Mr. Ismay!”

 

Hercules was oblivious to it all, gazing down at the streets below and humming “Autumn” under his breath. That song had always been one of his favorite hymns, despite its melancholy nature.

 

“Autumn, huh?” Lightoller queried, raising an eyebrow. “I never took you as being much of a religious person, Herc— I always thought you were more of a classical music guy.”

 

“I do enjoy classical music, that is true. Specifically Beethoven and Bach.” Hercules sighed, running a hand through his brown curls.

 

“However, I’ve always felt some sort of connection to that song.” He admitted, frowning slightly. “It was the only song I was born knowing the lyrics to without having to learn them . Don’t ask me why— I haven’t been able to encounter an explanation for it.”

 

“Strange.” Lightoller murmured, staring at Hercules with an expression the man couldn’t quite place. A silence befell the group once again as they realized they had arrived at the captain’s quarters, the place Smith had designated for their meeting.

 

All they needed to do now was wait.

 

A few moments later, Captain Edward John Smith stepped out of his cabin, dressed to the nines in his formal uniform. Smith was a tall fellow of sixty two years of age, whose kindly smile designated him as a man to whom you could confide anything. His light colored eyes had brightened immediately upon seeing his godson, his lips stretching into a wide grin that spanned the entire width of his face.

 

“Ah, good morning lad!” Edward exclaimed merrily, eyes dancing with excitement and mischief. “Good to see you before we set sail— are you ready for today?”

 

“Oh, hell yes!” Hercules grinned, bouncing on his feet like a child. He ran towards Smith, before practically tackling the Captain to the ground in a hug, just as he had done to Lightoller earlier. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life!”

 

Smith laughed, a fond smile on his face as he quickly returned the hug before wriggling free of Hercules’ grasp. “Easy there, my boy.” He chuckled, laying a hand on his godson’s shoulder. “I’m afraid these old bones aren’t as spry as they used to be.”

 

Some of the crewmen nearby were snickering at their Captain’s predicament, waving at the personification when he looked their way. Hercules shot them a genuine smile before focusing his attention once more on Smith.

 

Like many, the anticipation the Captain felt was almost tangible, accompanied by a great sense of personal pride in a long history of accomplishment and great affection for Hercules. However, underneath all these domineering emotions was a strong sense of worry, stemming from a dream of sorts, a dream Edward was keeping under lock and key. It was buried so deeply in his godfather’s mind that Hercules wasn’t even able to access it, something which unsettled him greatly.

 

“Sorry, EJ.” The boy mumbled, loosening his grip on his godfather and gazing at him with a lopsided grin on his face.

 

“No problem, kiddo.” Edward sighed, ruffling Hercules’ hair before patting him on the back. “I understand you tend to struggle with controlling your enthusiasm, so I get it.”

 

“Now, I do believe I have some tasks for you and the other members of your little trio.” The Captain hummed, and the two Officers at Hercules’ side straightened their backs, ready to hear whatever orders Smith had for them.

 

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I would like for you, my dear Hercules, to join me on the gangway when the time comes to welcome the first class passengers on board. Officers Lightoller and Murdoch will be processing tickets, while Officer Wilde will be overseeing any last minute preparations. Does this sound acceptable to you?”

 

“I— of course it does!” Hercules nodded enthusiastically, eyes twinkling with happiness at his godfather’s words. “I’d be delighted to join you.”

 

“Excellent!” Edward clapped his hands together, resisting the urge to break out into a little jig. Thomas chuckled at the Captain’s happiness, a small smile creeping into his face at the sight.

 

That smile was later replaced by a look of envy— a look that was gone as quickly as it came so as not to arouse suspicion. Thomas hated to admit it, but he was jealous of the camaraderie Smith shared with his son. He could sense a level of trust between the two of them that exceeded the trust between Hercules and his father, and that realization hurt.

 

Damn his possessive nature.

 

He couldn’t help it, though. It had been his passion for the RMS Titanic that had brought Hercules to life in the first place, not Smith’s, and most certainly not Ismay’s!

 

“Hercules! There you are— I’ve been looking for you all morning!”

 

Speak of the devil, and the devil shall come.

 

Thomas had to hold back a groan as he saw Bruce Ismay bounding towards the quintet, exchanging an exasperated glance with his son. Hercules rolled his eyes at the sight of the White Star Line chairman, causing Murdoch and Wilde to snicker while Lightoller merely shook his head fondly.

 

The physical manifestation had never been too fond of Ismay.

 

In fact, Hercules had loathed Ismay from the moment they first met, from the moment he found out that the Heavens had designated him as his second godfather. While J.P. Morgan had been the main financial backer for the ambitious process of building Titanic, Bruce Ismay was the chairman of the White Star Line, the company that technically owned the ship.

 

Essentially, that meant that he _owned_ Hercules, and that he would be required by supernatural law to obey any order the man gave. Only Captain Smith, Mr. Morgan, or his father could overrule the order. As such, the three men had come to an agreement in order to protect the Titanic’s personification from falling victim to Ismay’s whims, deciding that Hercules was never to be alone in that man’s presence.

 

It was the best course of action if the man’s autonomy was to be preserved, after all.

 

Ismay was jogging towards the group, a young woman and five children in tow. Hercules was startled to observe the glaring resemblance between his godfather and the youngsters, noting that his three boys were near perfect replicas of their father at that age.

 

“Great. Just what I needed today.” Hercules grumbled, and Thomas laid a possessive hand on the personification’s shoulder as he stepped closer to him. Smith offered Hercules a reassuring smile, patting the lad on the back sympathetically before pulling his hand away.

 

Thomas was the first to acknowledge the White Star Line chairman, his tone stiff as he spoke to him in a soft voice, “Morning, Mr. Ismay.” He said coldly, and Hercules was able to feel a strong dislike for the man rolling off his father in waves, stemming from the countless times Ismay had countered the safety measures he wanted to put in place.

 

“Thomas.” Bruce inclined his head in greeting towards Andrews, taking note of the resentment brewing in the master shipbuilder’s eyes. “Captain Smith.” He smiled slightly at Edward, who took a step towards Hercules, immediately on his guard.

 

“And let’s not forget the star of the show!” He grinned merrily at Hercules, who flinched, staying close to Andrews and Smith. Silently, the young personification was praying that Ismay didn’t order him to do anything, that he wouldn’t take control over his own actions as he had so many times before. “How is my favorite godson doing today?”

 

Hercules, my dear boy, do me a favor and fetch me my notebook.

 

Don’t you dare speak to my daughter, boy. I will not trust you around her!

 

Hercules this, Hercules that....

 

STOP IT! Hercules yelled in his mind, gritting his teeth as he tried to control the countless memories of his godfather ordering him around like some....like some slave. It was for this reason that he loathed Ismay so much, that he could not stand his presence.

 

“Your only godson.” The personification muttered under his breath, his words causing Lightoller to snicker and exchange a gleeful look with Murdoch. He clenched his jaw, trying to resist answering Ismay’s question for as long as humanly possible. Finally, those damn rules forced him to give an answer, and so he did, seething with barely controlled anger.

 

“I am fine.” He hissed, eyes narrowed into slits. Though I would be much better if you weren’t talking to me right now, you dithering nicompoop!

 

“Easy there, lad.” Ismay chuckled uneasily, shivering slightly as he sensed the sheer hatred in his godson’s voice. “Control that lioness temper of yours-- I’ve got guests with me today, and they’re family!”

 

“You’ve met most of my children, but I don’t believe you have met my fourth son. He will be accompanying me on your maiden voyage, for he has an interest in joining White Star Line as an officer.” Bruce went on to say, a smug smile on his face as a young boy stepped forward. The boy was about six feet tall, and the air of arrogance surrounding him disgusted Hercules.

 

Ismay’s fourth son was a regretfully handsome lad of twenty three years of age, with messy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was the only one of Ismay’s sons who did not even remotely resemble their father, and immediately, Hercules could tell he was going to be a problem. It was clear that Thomas realized that as well, for he tightened his grip on Hercules’ shoulder, a speculative frown appearing on his face.

 

“So you’re the one Father has been speaking to me about.” The unnamed boy murmured, his eyes drifting all over Hercules’ body as if scouring it for imperfections. The young personification shivered, and his father stepped in front of him, crossing his arms and glaring at Ismay’s child. “You don’t look like much. I dare say the _Lusitania’s_ physical manifestation was far more handsome than you’ll ever be. Lucian Ismay at your service, by the way.”

 

A low growl rumbled in Hercules’ throat, and Thomas bristled, ready to leap to his son’s defense. Ismay’s smug smile only grew, and the younger Andrews realized that he had done this on purpose, that he had encouraged Lucian to try and rile him up.  Hercules just stared defiantly up at the taller boy, stepping out from behind his father to face him head-on.

 

Silence fell over the group as its members watched anxiously, waiting to see who would speak first. Wilde was shuffling his feet uncomfortably, resisting the urge to speak up and defend the personification of the ship for which he was Chief Officer. Lightoller, meanwhile, had to be held back by Murdoch, his face red with anger. How _dare_ this insolent boy insult his best friend, the man he viewed as a brother!

 

“Hercules Caspian, don’t be rude!” Ismay scolded the shipbuilder’s son, a mocking tone barely concealed in his voice. “Introduce yourself to my son at once, or you and I will be having....words later.”

 

Much as he didn’t want to,  Hercules could feel his bond to _Titanic_ forcing him to obey Ismay’s order. “Fine.” he muttered, a petulant scowl plastered onto his face. “The name’s Hercules Andrews, but my friends call me Herc for short. Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He then turned back to his godfather, who was now smirking, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “There. Does that satisfy your request?”

 

“I’m afraid not, _boy_.” Bruce resisted the urge to laugh at the anger on Hercules’ face upon hearing his response, deciding to  step closer to the young immortal. “You see, I am currently in the process of giving my family a tour of this magnificent ship, and as her physical manifestation, I want you to show us around. You know Titanic better than anyone, and besides, it’s a great opportunity for you to get to know Lucian.”

 

“As her physical manifestation”, huh? Good to know Ismay’s already betrayed my trust and told them my secret, as if I didn’t hate him enough already! Hercules thought resentfully, as his father wrapped a reassuring arm around his son’s shoulder. He leaned on Thomas, calling on the shipbuilder’s fatherly affection for his creation in an effort to combat Ismay’s orders.

 

He didn’t know how much more of being ordered around like this he could take.

 

“But...but...” Hercules stuttered, faltering at the stern glare Ismay shot him upon hearing his attempt at a refusal. He glanced helplessly at Captain Smith, who had asked him just minutes ago to join him in welcoming the first class passengers when they boarded in an hour. If he joined Ismay on the tour, he wouldn’t make it back in time to do that; however, he had no choice but to obey. “Alright, then.” He murmured, a wave of shame and self-hatred flooding his body.

 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, actually.” Smith spoke up, taking pity on the young personification. He really did care for the boy, and viewed him as an adopted son, so seeing Ismay order him around like a slave made his blood boil! “I’ve already asked young Hercules to accompany me as I welcome the First Class passengers, and if he were to join you then he wouldn’t be able to do that. However, do feel free to join us at the Captain’s table this evening-- we’ll be dining with the Astors, Ms. Brown, and other notable folk.”

 

Ismay’s eyes narrowed-- he hated it when Smith or Andrews negated one of his orders, as he was one of those men who believed everything should go his way no matter what it was.

 

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer then, Captain Smith.” He replied stiffly, gripping Lucian’s arm tightly. Hercules sighed in relief when his owner backed down and shot Edward a grateful smile, glad that he wouldn’t have to follow that order. “In that case, I’ll see you this evening— or perhaps earlier, if I run into you before then.”

 

“God forbid.” Hercules whispered to himself, shaking his head.

 

“Good day Hercules, Thomas, Officers.” Ismay bid the group goodbye, before leading his family away, grumbling to himself all the while.

 

The group of six stood there quietly for a few more moments, waiting for someone else to speak first. Finally, it was Andrews who broke the silence, giving his son’s hand a gentle squeeze.

 

“I’m proud of you, son. You handled yourself well back there, especially with the way his....his offspring was looking at you.” Thomas commented, looking absolutely disgusted at the thought of Lucian. Hercules smiled awkwardly at his father’s praise, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment.

 

“It’s nothing, Pa.” The personification mumbled, his voice barely audible as he spoke. “You just get used to Mr. Ismay after dealing with him for a long period of time...I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that his sons are no different.”

 

“Offspring is a _much_ nicer word than what I was about to call that little bastard, Mr. Andrews.” Murdoch told the master shipbuilder, and Hercules had to stifle a laugh at his friend’s words.

 

Smith just shook his head, as a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Language, William.” He scolded the First Officer gently, a fond smile creeping onto his face.

 

Sailors were known for their....rather _colorful_ language, but that didn’t mean they used it in the presence of their captain. Especially with Smith in particular, who saw those under his command as a son or daughter he must endeavor to protect.

 

“Sorry, sir.” William at least had the good sense to look slightly sheepish at his Captain’s slight reprimand, while Wilde and Lightoller burst into a fit of giggles.

 

“Anyways,” Andrews coughed, glancing below decks at the eager crowd of Third Class passengers that was gathering on the gangway before looking back up at Smith. “I do believe you and Herc should go take care of any last minute preparations, EJ. I myself will be patrolling the ship, making sure everything is up to speed.”

 

“And we’ll be helping to process tickets and such.” Lightoller added hastily, gesturing to himself, Murdoch, and Wilde.

 

“So we’ll all be parting ways, then?” Hercules queried, and the members of the group all nodded in agreement. “Alright. I’ll see most of you at dinner tonight, then. If you need me, I’ll be with EJ.”

 

Andrews hummed in agreement, a gleam of mischief shining in his eyes.

 

“Okay, my boy. Edward, don’t you let Hercules anywhere Ismay’s cabin— the last thing we need is another toad under that man’s pillow, no matter how much he may deserve it!” The shipbuilder joked, eliciting a round of laughter from those around him. Hercules’ face was beet red, and he made the very mature decision to stick his tongue out at his father, who merely grinned at his son.

 

“Oh, shove a sock in it, Pops.” He muttered, glaring playfully at Thomas while Smith looked at the two gleefully. “I’ll see you all at dinner tonight. C’mon EJ— let’s go discuss plans for this voyage. I have some ideas I want to run past you.”

 

The group was still laughing as the Captain and his godson left, talking quietly under their breaths.

 

Departure was now only a mere two hours away, and things were about to get interesting.

 

 _Very_ interesting.


	3. captain smith's vision

**Southampton, April 1912**

 

Captain Smith and his godson walked up to the bridge, talking quietly amongst themselves as they did so. Hercules stayed close to his godfather, not wanting to stray too far from his sight, when suddenly his mind was flooded with the thoughts and feelings of the boarding Third Class passengers.

 

Just as he had on the Grand Staircase, he staggered back in shock, only for Smith to catch him before he could fall over completely. 

 

“Everything alright, lad?” Edward queried lightly, concern flickering across his face at the state his godson was in. The young boy was trembling, face pale and eyes wide. 

 

“I’m...I’m fine.” Hercules mumbled, running an anxious hand through his dark curls. “It’s just, well, being able to hear the thoughts and feel the emotions of one’s passengers is  _ exhausting _ , and First and Second Class haven’t even boarded yet!”

 

Edward frowned, well aware of the legends regarding physical manifestations and their occupants. It would seem that the rumors were true-- those who personified a building or place were indeed far more connected to their occupants than they could have ever imagined, and he was seeing it first hand! No wonder Ismay wanted such absolute control over the boy!

 

“So the legends are true, then.” Smith murmured, staring at Hercules with a raised eyebrow. He thought for a minute, before allowing a kind smile to creep onto his face, resting his hand on Hercules’ shoulder. 

 

“If you need anyone to talk to about it, you can always come to me.” The Captain reassured the young immortal, a twinkle in his eye. “I wouldn’t ever betray your trust, so don’t hesitate to talk to me if you need it. I’m available at  _ any  _ time, especially for you.”

 

“You...you promise?” Hercules asked quietly, his words barely audible. Edward’s heart broke a little at the uncertainty in the boy’s voice, and he found himself wondering what on Earth had happened to make him react in such a manner, who could have shattered Hercules’ trust in such a manner. He knew Thomas would  _ never  _ betray the very personification he had brought to life, so that left only one person.

 

One person, who the Captain knew was determined to control his godson at all costs.

 

Joseph Bruce Ismay.

 

“I promise.” Smith whispered, nodding. “I’m not Bruce Ismay, my boy. Unlike him, I would rather  _ die  _ than lose your confidence, and I know your father would answer in a similar manner. There’s a reason myself, Thomas, and Mr. Morgan made that agreement to protect you, after all.”

 

_ And yet, that agreement hasn’t worked anyway. Ismay  _ still  _ tries to find ways to control me, but at least they try to stop it. If not for them, I would have to sacrifice my independence completely!  _ Hercules thought, letting out a sigh as he offered Smith a grateful smile. 

 

“Thank you.” He responded, his voice soft as he spoke. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around the Captain, who blinked in surprise at the sudden display of affection from his young charge, pulling him into a tight hug. Smith returned the gesture, a fond smile on his face as he did so. 

 

“Your offer also extends from me to you, EJ.” Hercules added, gaze flickering up towards his godfather. “If you ever need anyone to talk to, I am available. I’d be damned if I broke your trust, and honestly, I can’t stand the thought of ever having to do so. Having Ismay betray me like that -running around and telling people who I am despite my pleas to keep it a secret- is bad enough, and I cannot imagine doing the same thing to you.”

 

“That would be much appreciated, lad.” Edward hummed in agreement, letting go of the boy but still keeping a hand on his shoulder. “In fact...” he trailed off, unsure of how to approach this discussion. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about this...this  _ vision _ of sorts, a nightmare that’s been haunting me for over a week now.”

 

Hercules raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what Smith was referring to. He was referencing the very dream that the personification had been unable to see, that had been kept under lock and key in his mind. Clearly, whatever it was had terrified the sixty-two year old, and that wasn’t a pleasant thought. Smith was fearless, after all-- not much scared him.

 

“Go on.” The boy quietly encouraged his godfather, watching Edward curiously. “What is it that has so deeply terrified the great Edward John Smith, the man with over forty years of experience at sea?”

 

Edward’s eyes flickered shut, and in his mind’s eye, he could picture the dream that had frightened him so much in recent days. He took a deep, shuddering breath, clenching his fists in an effort to calm himself down.

 

_ A disembodied voice, one that sounded suspiciously like Officer Murdoch’s, calling for “women and children first”. Mr. Hartley and his orchestra playing a song that seemed to be a hybrid of “Nearer, My God, to Thee” and “Autumn”, the eerie screams of unknown souls echoing in the Captain’s ears.  _

 

_ The blurry image of a man Smith assumed to be Thomas Andrews, standing by the fireplace in the First Class Smoking Room with his arms folded over his chest, his expression despondent and lacking any sign of his usual happiness.  _

 

_ An old couple, sound asleep in their bed as water flooded their room, sweeping them away to sea. A man, sitting in the First Class Dining Room by himself, calmly reading a book. Mr. Astor and his friends, playing one last round of poker before a wave of water burst into the dining room. _

 

_ And Hercules....oh  _ god.

 

_ Edward saw his godson conversing with Thomas, and his heart shattered upon seeing just how  _ weak  _ the boy was. He bit his lip nervously, eyes drifting over to the young woman standing at Hercules’ side, who had her arms wrapped around his waist in an effort to keep him standing. Her long brown curls and soft blue eyes were all too familiar--they were eerily reminiscent of her grandfather, one John Pierpont Morgan--and all Edward needed to figure out her identity. _

 

_ This was Marilyn Elizabeth Morgan, the famed piano prodigy, but what the hell could she be doing in his dreams? It had been  _ years  _ since he last saw her! _

 

_ He strained his ears in an effort to hear what was being said, only to find that he was unable to discern any of their words. Much to his horror, Hercules suddenly staggered back, crumpling to the ground like a rag doll, and it took all of Edward’s self control not to run to his godson’s side. Thomas let out an exclamation of shock and bent down beside Hercules, only for Marilyn to shake her head and...wait, did she just do that?! _

 

_ The eldest granddaughter of J.P. Morgan had somehow managed to gather Hercules in her arms, not showing even the slightest strain from the effort of carrying the immortal being. Andrews smiled gratefully at her, pressing a gentle kiss to his son’s forehead before nodding in approval. _

 

_ “Get Hercules to a lifeboat, and get him to safety as quickly as you can. When he wakes, tell him his father loves him very much, that he regrets not being able to build him a better ship.” Smith distinctly heard Thomas tell Marilyn. “Oh, and by the way? Your relationship has my blessing. Treat him well, lass. Give my boy the happiness he deserves.” _

 

_ Just then, the sheer force of the water shattered the glass on the windows, destroying any hopes Marilyn or Hercules would have had of escaping. It felt as if a thousand knives were being driven into Edward’s body-- he had never experienced a feeling this painful in his life, and by god, it felt like torture.  _

 

_ “This is  _ your  _ fault, Captain Smith.” The disembodied voices of  _ Titanic’s  _ lost passengers hissed in Edward’s ear. “ _ You  _ were the one who murdered your godson!  _ You _ killed fifteen hundred of us before we had the chance to live! THE TITANIC IS GONE, BECAUSE OF YOU!” _

 

The Captain’s face was pale as he finished recounting the dream to Hercules, who was merely gazing at him with an emotionless expression on his face, not giving any indication as to what his reaction would be.

 

Finally, upon the conclusion of the tale, Hercules looked up at his godfather, before silently pulling him into a tight hug.

 

“I’m so sorry, EJ....no one should have to witness that, least of all you.” He murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. Smith returned the hug, holding Hercules close, recalling how terrified he had been when his dream self thought he lost him. 

 

_ “ _ It’s fine, my boy. I’m fine. It’ll be okay.” Edward whispered, tightening his grip on the immortal and wishing he never had to let go. “I swear to God, you will  _ never _ have to experience anything like that in your lifetime. I’d sooner end my own life than let your ship founder....than lose you before you’ve had a chance to live....”

 

Hercules merely smiled sadly at his godfather, wriggling free from his grasp and meeting his gaze.

 

“You cannot promise such a thing, EJ, but I appreciate the effort.” He shrugged, letting out a deep sigh. “It’s God who sinks ships— we are but mere pawns in his ceaseless game of chess, able to be sacrificed at any time. If the Fates ordain that my time as an immortal is over, then so mote it be.”

 

“That may be true,” acknowledged the Captain, nodding in agreement. “However, let it be known that I will do what it takes to protect you, even at the cost of my own life.”

 

Edward took out his pocket watch, taking a moment to glance down at the time. His eyes widened, and he suddenly looked panicked, realizing that he and Hercules had spent far too much talking.

 

“Shit!” The man muttered, gaze snapping up at Hercules with horror on his face. “The First Class passengers will be boarding in about ten minutes...we’ve gotta get down to the gangway!”

 

“Alright-- ten shillings says I beat you there, Eddy!” Hercules grinned, before taking off, racing down to where the first class passengers would be boarding. As an immortal personification, he had much more speed than the average human, so he would have easily outrun Smith anyway.

 

“HEY! I thought I’ve told you not to call me that!” Smith cried out, sprinting after Hercules with a look of indigiation on his face.

 

Edward finally caught up to the immortal a few minutes later, panting and forehead dripping with sweat. The Captain grinned at his godson, before the two of them burst into laughter, exhilirated from the effort required by the (unfairly matched) race. 

 

“Guess you owe me ten shillings then, dear godfather.” giggled Hercules, eyes dancing with excitement and body trembling with stores of untapped energy. The anticipation for his maiden voyage was nearly at its boiling point, an anticipation shared by most everyone on board the ship. 

 

Grumbling to himself, Edward pulled the requested shillings from his pocket, rolling his eyes as he slid them into Hercules’ hands. He hid a fond smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at the immortal’s actions.

 

“I  _ knew  _ I should never have let you stay with Mr. Morgan back in 1908...damn that man for teaching you the art of betting.” Smith sighed, his words causing Hercules to grin madly. As he spoke them, however, the first class passengers were called to board the ship, much to the happiness of his godson.

 

“About damn time!” crowed Hercules, clapping his hands together in delight. His eyes were shining with a childlike sense of wonder and joy, an emotion Edward had not seen the boy express in a long while. “I was starting to wonder if we were ever going to get to the part where people actually  _ board  _ the ship!”

 

As the first passengers went through the ticket processing procedures, Hercules stood on the balls of his feet and peered into the door, trying to see who he would get to meet first. 

 

_ My god, I’ve never seen anything like this in my life! This staircase alone is absolutely magnificent....dear Papa would be beside himself with delight if he could see this! _

 

A sharp intake of breath from Captain Smith indicated that the man recognized this First Class passenger, the first of her class to board  _ Titanic.  _ For a moment, his face was pale and eyes wide, before he shook his head to absolve his facial features of any expression whatsoever.

 

“It’s President Taft’s daughter, Hercules.” Edward whispered to the boy, eyeing her curiously as the young woman approached. He recognized her from her shining ebony hair, the deep blue eyes that had gazed up at him so often from his morning copy of the newspaper. “I wasn’t expecting her to be on the ship...the  _ New York Times  _ or some similar outlet surely would have reported that. Be on your best behavior— we don’t need any foreign incidents here.”

 

Hercules nodded absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his godfather’s words. He was too busy studying the man and woman at her side. The man, the one with the golden locks and soft brown eyes, was unfamiliar to him, but the woman, the one currently conversing in excited undertones with Ms. Taft-Roosevelt?

 

_ That _ one he knew like the back of his hand.

 

As the trio came into view, he found himself focusing on her, memories of summers long past flooding his mind. Of sitting on the front porch of her father’s estate, of  running a hand through her exquisitely long, curly hair, of racing her through the woods on horseback, and of falling asleep on the couch together in her family’s extensive library. Of countless performances together, singing his heart out while she accompanied him on the piano.

 

He stared at her for a few more seconds, mesmerized by the memories her presence conjured, before eventually coming to his senses.

 

“...Mari?” Hercules breathed, unable to believe that  _ she _ was really here. The granddaughter of John Pierpont Morgan, the closest friend he had ever had. “Is that....is that...”

 

Marilyn Morgan’s head snapped over in his direction at the sound of that familiar nickname, the name she only permitted one person to call her. The young woman’s eyes widened in shock as she saw Hercules standing there, and before she knew it, she found herself on autopilot.

 

Setting down her luggage, she sprinted towards her best friend, nearly tackling him to the ground in a bone-breaking hug. It was only thanks to the intervention of Captain Smith that Hercules didn’t fall over completely— the force of the hug was such that he could easily have been knocked over. 

 

_ God,  _ she had missed him.

 

“Well, this is a wonderful surprise!” Hercules laughed, regaining his balance and beaming at Marilyn with a twinkle in his eye. “I wasn’t expecting you to come...I thought Uncle JP wanted you to stay home with him!”

 

“He did, but when Grandma broke her wrist, I convinced him to let me come home to the States with you.” Mari grinned, bouncing up and down in excitement. Edward observed the couple with a small smile, noting that the President’s daughter and her companion had started to walk towards them, curious as to what had seized their friend’s attention.

 

“Besides, do you  _ really  _ think I would let you celebrate your birthday on your maiden voyage alone? What kind of best friend would I be then?” She added, speaking so fast that Hercules was hardly able to keep up with what she was saying. Such an occurrence was commonplace for Marilyn  in times of great happiness— it often seemed that her brain registered the occurrences around her faster than her mouth could speak, one of the main reasons she and Hercules got along so well. They both had that same amount of uncontrollable energy, a sense of youthfulness about them that many of their contemporaries envied.

 

“You have a point, my dear.” chuckled Hercules, not even noticing the particular term of endearment that had just slipped into his response. Marilyn heard it, however, and blushed, while Edward just smirked and resisted the urge to wiggle his eyebrows playfully at his godson. The Captain gently reminded himself to act professional, choosing instead to lay a protective hand on Hercules’ shoulder. “I....I....”

 

Hercules floundered about for a bit, wondering how best to continue the dwindling conversation. Being in Marilyn’s presence never failed to make him flustered, to tie his tongue into knots and take away any power of speech he might have had.

 

Meanwhile, other first class passengers had now begun to trickle into the room, exchanging pleasant greetings with those they already knew as they passed them. Hera and her companion had finally reached the trio, eyeing Hercules curiously as they tried to place his identity.

 

“....it’s good to see you again, Captain Smith.” Marilyn was saying, her unique American accent startling Hercules from his casual observations of the room. “It’s been so long since Christmas of 1910– how’s Mr. Ismay doing? Mr. Andrews?” She queried, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Bruce and Thomas are simply  _ thriving _ . In fact, we just spoke with them prior to coming down here— Ismay’s bringing one of his boys with him on the voyage, says he’s interested in being a man of the sea..” Smith hummed in response, a slight twinkle in his eye. 

 

“The day Lucian Bruce Ismay becomes an officer on any ship is the day I die.” grumbled Hercules, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at the thought of his new rival. “God forbid he one day becomes an officer on this very ship! I’d sooner see  _ Titanic  _ founder in Iceberg Alley than refer to that man as ‘Officer Ismay’.”

 

Marilyn could see the resentment brewing in the immortal’s eyes, and shivered, praying to Providence that such an emotion would never be directed at her. 

 

It was then that Hera Taft-Roosevelt decided to make her presence known, stepping forward to join the little group. From her, Hercules could feel a great deal of curiosity surrounding the identities of himself and the Captain—god, humans were the  _ worst _ at hiding their emotions—, and offered the woman a small smile, staying close to Edward.

 

“Who might this young man be, Marilyn?” The President’s daughter asked quietly, her piercing blue eyes searching Hercules’  body for any language that might indicate distrust or suspicions 

 

“This here is Hercules Andrews, a dear friend of mine for many years, and the man standing beside him is his godfather, one Captain Edward John Smith.” Marilyn hummed, gesturing to the men in question when she spoke their names. “Captain Smith, Hercules, this is Hera Taft-Roosevelt and her mentor, a Mr. Quinn Woolf.”

 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Woolf, Ms. Taft-Roosevelt.” murmured Hercules, shaking Woolf’s hand before turning his gaze to the young woman at his side. Gently, he took Hera’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to it in greeting. The gesture was enough to cause Hera to blush furiously, and Marilyn’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

 

The multi-millionaire’s granddaughter resisted the urge to let out a low growl, settling instead for the appearance of a small frown on her lips. Just thinking of another woman falling for Hercules’ intoxicating charms, his simply gorgeous curls and handsome smile, made Marilyn’s blood boil, for reasons she could not even begin to explain. Even though kissing a woman’s hand was a frequently used gesture of greeting, it still upset her, seeing her childhood friend express affection to another in that manner.

 

“You and Ms. Morgan were childhood friends, you say? Forgive me for saying this, but from the way you two interact you seem to be much  _ more  _ than friends.” Hera’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she saw Hercules blush, looking almost like a toddler caught red handed by his  parents with a hand still in the cookie jar. “And please, call me Hera by the way. My real name’s Felicity, but I prefer being addressed by my middle name. Way more majestic.”

 

Smith wanted to burst into laughter at Hera’s comment regarding the nature of Hercules and Marilyn’s relationship, and indeed, it was only his professionalism that enabled him to keep a straight face throughout the interaction. However, his facade very nearly broke upon seeing Hercules’ reaction to such a comment, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling.

 

It was just too amusing seeing his godson this...this  _ flustered. _

 

“I....we....” stammered Hercules, looking at Marilyn helplessly. Seeing that she looked just as lost on the subject of how to respond, he sighed, knowing he was on his own this time. “We’re friends, alright? Just friends. We’ve known each other for four years, and I wouldn’t  _ mind _ being more than friends, but yeah. We’re not romantically involved, yet.”

 

_ Goddamnit, you idiot! Stop acting like a dunderhead and get your shit together!  _ He scolded himself mentally, realizing what a fool he had just made of himself. The gleam of mischief in his godfather’s eyes didn’t help at all, nor did the unreadable expression on Marilyn’s face.

 

The immortal personification slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shifting his feet awkwardly and staring at the ground. Silently, he cursed Hera for saying such a thing, scolded her for putting those thoughts into his head-- thoughts of another life, a life forever entwined with his childhood friend. 

 

A silence had fallen over the group while Hercules was lost in his thoughts, as the quintet drank in the excitement of their surroundings. It was Edward who would speak next, an imploring look in his eyes as he glanced at Hera and her party.

 

“Will you three be so kind to join us at the Captain’s table for dinner this evening?” Edward inquired, a small smile on his face. “Mr. Astor and his party have already accepted an invitation to join us, as have Mr. Andrews and Mr. Ismay. The more the merrier.”

 

“My apologies, Captain, but Quinn and I have already accepted an invitation to dine with Major Butt--you know, my father’s Presidential Aide--and Archibald Gracie. Had it been any other circumstance, I would have readily accepted your invitation.” Hera responded quietly, a sincere look of regret in her eyes. 

 

For a brief moment, a crestfallen expression flickered across Edward’s face, before he reigned in his emotions, returning to his stoic features once more. It was such a shame; he really would have enjoyed dining with the President’s daughter, and he knew Hercules would have as well. Perhaps he could ask her to join them another night?

 

“No worries. We’ll just have to agree on a different evening you can join us, then.” The Captain sighed, taking a moment to straighten his jacket. 

 

Hercules watched the interaction quietly, not really knowing whether it was his place to offer input on the matter. As he studied his godfather, he remained unaware of his surroundings--so unaware, in fact, that he didn’t even notice a young woman with whom he was all too familiar sneaking up on him until she poked him in the back.

 

“Ouch!” Hercules yelped, not expecting the sudden action. “Who the hell--” the personification whirled around, expecting to see some toddler with no sense of respect for adult authorities being the one to poke and prod him.

 

Who he saw instead was even more surprising.

 

“....Ophelia? What in god’s name are you doing here?”


	4. an unsinkable bond

**Southampton, April 1912**

 

Hercules Andrews had  _ not _ been expecting to see his sister that day.

 

No, not at all.

 

As the  _ Titanic’s  _ personification stared at his sister ship in shock, he pondered the possible events that could have led to her standing before him now, dressed in a pale pink floor-length dress and wearing a wide grin on her face. Her hair—which happened to be a slightly darker brown than his own—was tied back in a neat-looking bun, makeup flawless as usual. Around her neck resided a strand of milky white pearls, a Christmas gift from Marilyn’s grandfather back in 1910. 

 

“Hercules.” Ophelia breathed quietly, staring up at her brother with no small amount of happiness and relief. “Oh, you have no idea how good it is to see you!” She wrapped her arms around  him into a tight hug, one which he did not hesitate to return.

 

“It’s good to see you too, dear sister.” murmured Hercules, holding his sister close and wishing he could never let go. He pulled apart a moment later, gazing into her hazel eyes for the first time in many months. “Pardon me for asking, but once again, what in God’s name are you doing here? I thought Mr. Ismay ordered you to stay with the  _ Olympic  _ until after my maiden voyage!”

 

“ _ My  _ maiden voyage?” Hera muttered to Quinn, tilting her head as she attempted to figure out the meaning behind his words. “Why would it be  _ his  _ maiden voyage?”

 

“I don’t know, but maybe if we listen, we’ll find out.” Woolf gently scolded his former student, hiding a fond smile as she once again expressed her curiosity on a matter about which he knew next to nothing. 

 

Quinn and Hera had first met at Oxford University, when he had been her Professor for a music theory course she had been taking as part of her major. It was rather uncommon for women to attend college at the time, especially away from their homeland, but President Taft had pulled a few strings with the administration in order to convince them to let her attend the prestigious school. She had arrived as a music major, and hit it off immediately with her professors, all of whom were startled to see that she was not the meek, shy woman they had imagined her to be. 

 

In particular, Quinn himself had been quite taken aback by Hera’s fiercely independent  personality, which often came into conflict with his colleagues’ more authoritarian approaches. Upon observing the scorn with which they treated her, he resolved to befriend the young woman, and slowly began to get to know her outside the classroom.

 

Over the course of the next four years, they had become the best of friends, a development which prompted Hera to decide that she wanted to introduce Quinn to her beloved father. She had booked first class  tickets on the next passenger ship she could find, which as fate would have it, turned out to be the  _ RMS Titanic _ . The unsinkable “ship of dreams”.

 

Now that he was on the ship, the Professor couldn’t help but sense an eerie feeling brewing in his stomach, the feeling he often got when he was about to make a decision with negative consequences. 

 

But why was he feeling such an emotion?

 

Perhaps that question ought to be investigated.

 

Quinn frowned, running a hand through his blond hair as he listened to Marilyn, Ophelia, and Hercules exchange friendly words. 

 

“...Well, I couldn’t very well miss out on your maiden voyage, brother, so I managed to convince my captain to let me join you!” Ophelia was explaining, a wide grin on her face as she spoke with her sibling. “I traveled here with Mr. Astor’s party—one of its members recognized me from a brief stint on my ship, so they invited me to accompany the group. I believe it was possibly a Margaret Brown? I don’t know....I’ve never been too good with names. They all took the train from Cherbourg, so I just met up with them when they reached Southampton.”

 

“A smart plan.” Hercules acknowledged, nodding in approval. He glanced at his godfather, who was watching the interaction quietly, his eyes darting back and forth between the brother and sister pair. “Mr. Astor’s a good man....I’ve met him a few times, and he’s always been ever so kind to me. I don’t know if that has anything to do with my known connection to Mr. Morgan, but whatever the case, I would surely rather have him as a friend instead of a foe. Goodness knows with the sheer amount of money and influence he has that he could make my life absolutely miserable if he so chose.”

 

“Indeed.” Edward finally spoke up for the first time in a while, deciding that now would be a good time to slide into the conversation. “A very wise decision. You never want to annoy those who carry the majority of the wealth in this world.”

 

“Truer words never spoken.” chuckled Ophelia, grinning at the captain of her brother’s ship. Her gaze flickered over to her left side, and her grin widened further, eyes lighting up with excitement. 

 

“There! There she is— the woman that helped me!” She cried out, gesturing towards the person in question. Hercules followed her gaze to see a woman with curly red hair dressed in a dark colored gown, a feathery hat atop her head. The stranger’s round face wore, like so many others, an expression of great anticipation on it, impatient for  _ Titanic  _ to set sail on her maiden voyage. 

 

Unbeknownst to them, Hera and Quinn slipped away, having just spotted dear friends of their own. Meanwhile, Ophelia bounded over to the mysterious stranger, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

 

She wasn’t usually  _ this  _ energetic, but today? Today was a special occasion, to say the least.

 

“There you are—I’ve been looking for everywhere for you!” exclaimed the stranger, clear relief flashing across her face as she saw Ophelia. “I was starting to think we had lost you! Where have you been, Lia?”

 

Hercules raised an eyebrow as he listened in on the exchange, immediately intrigued by this woman. It was rare for Ophelia to let a mere stranger address her by that hated nickname....there must have been something really special about her if she could do that without getting her ass kicked into next week.

 

How strange.

 

“Oh, I’ve just been over here speaking with my dear brother. Remember, the one I told you about? Come, you simply  _ must  _ meet him!” 

 

With that, Ophelia dragged the stranger over to the group, and Hercules had to conceal a groan of annoyance.  _ More  _ socializing? Would this torture ever end? 

 

Hercules had never minded socializing in a group of his family, or with his friends, but this was just too much for him. All the sights, sounds, and emotions of the surrounding environment were proving to be quite overwhelming, and it was beginning to take its toll on the young and inexperienced personification. This was noticed by both Marilyn and Edward, who exchanged meaningful looks before moving in to subtly comfort the boy. Marilyn reached forward and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, while the Captain wrapped an arm around the immortal entity’s shoulder, offering him a small smile.

 

A feeling of warmth and protection swept through Hercules’ body, the feeling he had always associated with being surrounded by those he loved. His previously forlorn expression—barely ensconced by a mask of cool indifference—was now replaced by a blissful smile, and he felt himself calming down immediately.

 

He could do this, make it through this next interaction.

 

Hell, he could do anything with both Edward Smith and Marilyn Morgan by his side!

 

Hercules had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he never noticed the stranger finally introducing herself, until Smith nudged him to get his attention.

 

“....I’m Margaret Brown, but everyone calls me Molly. Feel free to do so at your convenience.” Molly’s tone was cordial and friendly as she spoke, but her eyes were locked on Hercules—there was a knowing gleam of sorts in them, that look of knowledge she possessed that others did not. 

 

“I assume this is the brother you spoke of to me, Ophelia?” She continued, studying Hercules carefully with her piercing gaze. The immortal could almost see the gears turning in her head, and realized just how smart this woman really was. Whether Ophelia had alerted her to his status as a personification or not, she was bound to figure it out soon, if she hadn’t already. “Your name’s Hercules, right?”

 

“Indeed.” Hercules hummed, still keeping a tight grip on Marilyn’s hand. With his free hand, he took Mrs. Brown’s hand in his own, before pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles in greeting. “Hercules Caspian Andrews, at your service. This man here beside me is my first godfather, Captain Edward John Smith, and the lovely lady holding my hand is one Marilyn Morgan.”

 

A warm laugh escaped Molly’s lips, as a look of glee crept onto her face. “My, my. You weren’t kidding when you said you brother was quite the charmer, were you my dear?” The American’s eyes danced with merriment as Ophelia grinned, trying to hide a smirk at just how flustered Molly’s comment had made her brother. “It’s a pleasure to meet you and your family, Hercules.”

 

“I...It’s nice to meet you too, Molly. Now if you’ll just excuse me for a moment, I believe I just spotted my father--” Hercules looked around wildly, trying to find the perfect opportunity to escape the group. However, his hopes would be dashed when one Joseph Bruce Ismay sauntered up to the group, Lucian in tow.

 

“Not so fast there,  _ boy _ .” Ismay scolded Hercules, somehow still managing to keep his tone light and cordial. The White Star Line chairman’s eyes lit up as he saw Ophelia standing beside her brother, hiding a smirk when he spotted her. “Ah, hello there dear!” 

 

“Mr. Ismay!” Ophelia exclaimed, pulling her godfather into a tight hug. The man was slightly surprised—after all, Hercules had always treated him with such disdain (and he had no idea why!), so having one of the Andrews siblings give him a pleasant greeting was somewhat shocking. “It’s good to see you!”

 

“Ophelia....my, this is a rather lovely surprise! I thought I had told you to stay on  _ Olympic  _ for one more voyage before joining your brother!” Ismay smiled slightly, trying to hide just how annoyed he was that Ophelia had disobeyed his orders. How on  _ Earth  _ had she managed to break through the magical hold he had over her?

 

Hercules frowned, and Edward tightened his grip on the lad’s shoulder, drawing him close to him protectively. The immortal resisted the urge to let out a growl and tell Ismay never to go near his sister again, knowing that would not go over well. 

 

Ophelia shrugged, returning the smile her godfather offered. “Eh, I changed my mind. Besides, Herc’s birthday is on Friday....there’s no way in hell I was going to miss that, orders or no orders!”

 

“Is that so?” Ismay narrowed his eyes at Hercules, rounding on Thomas Andrews’ eldest boy with his arms crossed. His tone was icy as he glared at Hercules, and for a moment, all was silent as the two had a staredown of sorts— a staring competition that Ismay eventually won. A brief look of disappointment flickered across the Immortal’s face, for indeed, he was  _ not  _ happy that he had lost to the man. “Well then, I guess I can approve such a lapse in judgement.” He amended, and the reluctance in his tone went entirely over Ophelia’s head.

 

“Father, aren’t you going to introduce me to this lovely lady and her young companions?” Lucian Ismay suddenly piped up, using the resulting silence as an opportunity to slide into the conversation.

 

“Oh, yes—of course.” The elder Ismay cleared his throat, nodding his head slightly as he kept one possessive hand locked in place on his son’s shoulder. “This here is my eldest son, one Lucian Bruce Ismay. Lucian, this is Marilyn Morgan, my goddaughter Ophelia, and....” he trailed off, frowning as he gazed at the red headed woman at Ophelia’s side. “Pardon me, miss, but I am afraid I do not recall your name.”

 

“Brown. Margaret Brown, but everyone just calls me Molly.” The American informed the White Star Line chairman, a slight smile on her face.

 

But Lucian’s eyes weren’t on her.

 

In fact, his gaze was currently set on one Ophelia Lillian Andrews, quite frankly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her soft, pale skin, her chocolate brown hair, neatly done up in a bun and kept in place with a pale pink ribbon, her piercing gaze behind which he could sense a personality of kindness and compassion. God....was this woman even aware of just how  _ enchanting _ she actually was? It took all of his self control to not wrap his arms around her waist, pull her into a passionate kiss, and take her away to where they could be alone—

 

“Lucian Ismay!” The irate voice of his father snapped, ripping the young man from his fantasies of what he and Ophelia could possibly do together if left alone. He jumped slightly, not having expected the sudden intrusion upon his line of thought. “Mrs. Brown asked you a question, my boy, and it would be simply rude not to answer it, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“I suppose so.” grumbled Lucian, resisting the urge to let out a sigh of frustration. Honestly, he’d rather be frozen in the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean than be standing here  right now, getting scolded by the one man who he had to obey at all costs.

 

After all, being the son of one Joseph Bruce Ismay meant that he had no freedom whatsoever, no control over his destiny, and he  _ hated _ it. Lucian’s father was the one who ordered him to antagonize Hercules for the purpose of destroying the boy’s spirit, rendering him unable to rebel against his incessant demands for any longer. He hated to do it—Hercules was a rather nice fellow, and not someone he wanted to make an enemy of—but it had to be done.

 

“Come now, Mr. Ismay! Give the boy a break!” Molly chuckled good-naturedly, a warm smile on her face. “Surely we are all caught up in the excitement of this wonderful occasion....why should we fault another for being lost in their thoughts?”

 

“You know what, Molly?” Hercules grinned, wriggling out of Smith’s grip and bounding over to the future congressional candidate, slinging an arm over her shoulder. “I think I like you. Something tells me you and I are going to get along famously.” 

 

Edward smiled slightly at his godson’s enthusiasm, glad that the company of the vivacious American had managed to revive the boy’s spirit once again. Meanwhile, Ismay stiffened, having not taken too kindly to being told what to do. Lucian noted the fury in his father’s eyes and flinched, shrinking back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

 

“Are you trying to tell me how to parent my son, Mrs. Brown?” Ismay asked in a low, quiet voice, the deadly tone embedded within it sending a shiver down Hercules’ spine. God _ ,  _ that man was  _ scary _ .

 

Hercules was shocked to see Molly’s unperturbed reaction to the threatening edge woven into the White Star Line chairman’s voice, though a closer examination of her emotions revealed a growing mix of concern and curiosity. That is, concern for Hercules and Lucian stemming from Ismay’s treatment of them, and a budding curiosity regarding the true nature of Hercules’ identity.

 

Hercules opened his mouth to try and defend the vibrant woman, only to suddenly stumble back in shock, his eyes wide. His mind felt like it was bursting at its full capacity— never before had there been so many voices in his head at once, so many stories untold, so many thoughts unheard. The young immortal’s hands shook as he tried to process the emotions of two thousand, two hundred and twenty-nine souls without being overwhelmed, a feat with which he was  _ quite  _ unsuccessful.

 

Marilyn ran over to her friend as she saw him stumble back, her eyes wide and face filled with concern. The group fell silent as they watched this, and Hercules could feel Molly’s eyes piercing his soul, her mind working at a breakneck pace as she tried to figure out just why this had happened to him.

 

Marilyn reached for his hand, gripping it tightly as she looked into his simply  _ mesmerizing _ brown eyes, only now noticing just how beautiful they were. “Hercules, is everything alright?” She asked quietly, raising an eyebrow as the personification of the  _ Titanic  _ nodded, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

 

“Why, yes—things are never better!” Hercules beamed, and Edward frowned at the sudden change in the boy’s mood, exchanging a look with Ismay. Unbeknownst to him, however, his godson’s mind wasn’t really in the moment. It was elsewhere, by the gangway, where the steward at long last was calling out phrases like “All ashore who are going ashore!” and “Last call for boarding!”

 

“Are you sure, my boy? Just moments ago you looked as if you were going to have a heart attack!” Ismay laughed nervously, hiding a smirk upon seeing Hercules’ glare when he was referred to as “his boy”. 

 

“Yes. I’m sure, godfather.” Hercules replied tersely, before grabbing Marilyn’s hand once again. A childlike gleam appeared in his eyes as he bounced on the balls of his feet, barely unable to contain his anticipation. “Anyways, let’s go to the promenade—we’ll be leaving soon!”

 

With that, the immortal squeezed Marilyn’s hand, practically dragging her up the Grand Staircase. Marilyn shrugged, deciding to not even try and fight her childhood friend. Besides, she would have made her way here in a few minutes anyway, having come to the same conclusion he had.

 

The multi-millionaire’s granddaughter knew full well of Hercules’ status as the  _ Titanic’s  _ personification, and therefore didn’t fault him for his excitement. In fact, she shared the very same sentiments—she had sailed on a number of passenger liner ships before, but never any as grand as this one.

 

Needless to say, this occasion would be one for the history books. It was practically destined for success, that much Marilyn Elizabeth Morgan knew.

 

She just couldn’t believe that she would have the chance to be a part of it.


End file.
